Anne called Valerie that night, and Jason and Van, and Lionel, and finally her parents, although she had hesitated about that, and everyone was excited for her. They were naming him Maximilian, and would call him Max Stein, and Faye was just so happy for Anne. She had known only too well how desperately she wanted this child. And when she came to see her the next day, she came hesitantly, with a huge teddy bear for Max, and a bed jacket for Anne. It looked like one she had worn in the hospital herself when Lionel was born.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

'Thank you, Mom.” But there was always a gulf between them which nothing could bridge, it was an irremediable gap, and Bill felt it too when he came back from the house, where he had made sure everything was the way Anne wanted it. She was going home the next day.

And then Max was brought in, and they all oohed and ahhed, and Faye agreed that he looked like Bill. And Val and George dropped by, as the nurses almost swooned. But this time they didn't just want George's autograph, they wanted Val's too. The movie was a huge hit, and posters of Val were plastered all over town. Everyone knew her now. And Faye smiled as she sat back in the hospital room, and watched the two girls chat. Val was laughing about something Anne had said, and she was telling her what having the baby was like, as Bill and George stared wondrously at little Max.

Bill drove them proudly home the next day, and they settled Max in his nursery. He seemed happy and content, and he nursed a lot, and Bill took a few days off just to be with them. “You know,” she looked at Bill happily a few days after they got home, “I'd do it again.” He stared at her and groaned. He wasn't sure he would. He was still impressed by the hideous pain she'd been in, even for such a brief time. It hadn't seemed all that brief to him, and it wasn't something he'd want to put her through again.

“Are you serious?” He looked shocked.

“I am.” She looked down at the baby, cozily tucked in at her breast, and she smiled up at Bill. “I would, you know.” He realized it was the price of having a twenty-year-old wife, and he leaned over and kissed first Anne, and then Max.

“You're the boss.”

She laughed and her eyes looked different now. It wasn't what she had thought. The pain of the past was not completely gone, and she knew now that it never would be. But there was someone else now, someone else she could love. She would never know where that other baby was, what he was like, who he would be when he grew up, unless he sought her out. He was gone forever from her life, irretrievably lost, but she could move on now. The pain was finally dim, and no longer acute. She had Max now … and Bill … and even if they never had another child, she thought to herself … she was glad to have them. They were enough.





CHAPTER 44




The night of the Academy Awards, Anne turned to Bill with a worried look, asking him if she looked fat. She was wearing a pale blue and gold dress, with sapphires and diamonds on her hands and ears and throat, and he thought she had never looked more beautiful. She didn't look quite as gaunt as she once had, and she had lost that beaten look. She looked peaceful and content, and everything about her glowed.

“You look better than any movie star.” He helped her on with a white mink wrap, and they hurried out to the car. They didn't want to be late. They had promised to meet Faye and Ward at their place and give them a ride. Valerie was going separately, with George, and Lionel had said he would meet them there. And once united at the Music Center, where the awards were held, they were definitely a striking group, the men in black tie, the women in jewel-colored gowns, all of them looking faintly alike, not in their dress, but their allure. Valerie was wearing a dazzling emerald-green dress, her hair done high on her head, and emeralds she had borrowed from Anne sparkling in her ears. And Faye looked resplendent in a shimmering gray gown from Norell. They were quite a group. And in New York, Vanessa was curled up in jeans, watching it on television with Jason, wishing she was there.

“You just can't imagine how exciting it is, Jase.” Her eyes lit up as she saw people she knew, and again and again as the camera swept Val's face. And this year he felt it too. He had never really cared about the Academy Awards before, and before Vanessa came into his life, he had never even bothered to watch. But now, they were prepared to sit there all night. They sat through the boring ones, the special effects, the humanitarian awards, the sound effects, the screenplays, the songs.

Clint Eastwood was host for that portion, Charlton Heston having been delayed by a flat tire. The award to the best director went to a friend of Faye's this year, and although George was nominated, he didn't win, and neither did their film. But then Faye was introduced to give the next award. “The Best Actress,” she said, qualifying it, reeling off the names of those who had been nominated by the Academy. And as Van and Jason watched they saw each tense face, and then finally a composite on the screen of each of them, Val sitting stone still, clutching George's hand, as they both seemed to hold their breath, and Faye looked out at her.

“The winner is … Valerie Thayer for Miracle.” The screams in the SoHo loft could have been heard all the way to L.A. as Vanessa danced around, overwhelmed by the news. She screamed and cried, and Jason pounded the bed, tossing all the popcorn in the bowl onto the floor, and in Hollywood, Valerie was shrieking too. She ran headlong toward the stage with a last look over her shoulder at George, and a thousand cameras took her photograph as she looked at him, blew a kiss, and then joined her mother on stage. The Oscar was handed to her, and tears streamed unabashedly down Faye's face. She approached the microphone for an instant and said, “You'll never know how much this girl deserves this award. She had the meanest director in town,” and then, as everyone laughed, she stood back, and hugged Val, and Valerie cried copiously, and thanked everyone for all they had done for her, and then crying harder still, she attempted to thank Faye.

“A long time ago, she gave me life, and now she has given me even…” she could barely go on “… more than that. She's taught me how to work hard … to do my best … she gave me the biggest chance of my life. Thank you, Mom.” The entire audience smiled through their tears as she held the coveted Oscar aloft.” … and Daddy, for believing in me … and Lionel and Vanessa and Anne for putting up with me for all these years …” She choked hard, but forced herself to go on, “… and Greg … we love you too …” And then, triumphantly, she left the stage, and flew into George's arms. It was the last award and they all went out to celebrate after that. She called Vanessa and Jason, the first chance she got, and everyone talked to them, although no one made much sense. Everyone was hugging her and shouting, kissing George, squeezing Val, hugging Ward and Faye. Even Anne was beside herself with glee and at Chasen's afterwards, Lionel had his new friend join them. He was someone George had acted with once a few years before, and had liked, and he fit into the group easily. He was about George's own age, and he and Lionel appeared to know each other well. And Faye realized then that this was the man responsible for the look in Lionel's eyes these days. It was the first time she had seen that look since John and she was glad for him. She was glad for all of them … Val, of course … Anne with her baby … Li … Van … they were just fine. And that night she stunned Ward by suggesting something he hadn't heard from her in a few years.

“What do you say we retire one of these days, kid?” “That again?” He laughed. “I think I've figured it out. Every time you don't get an Academy Award, you want to retire. Is that it, my love?” She laughed at the thought and shook her head. She was so happy for Val, she didn't begrudge her anything. She had earned every bit of it.

“I wish it were as simple as that.” She sat down on the bed and unclasped her pearls. They were the first gift Ward had ever given her, and the only jewels she hadn't sold when they lost their fortune years before, and they were very dear to her, as he was, as their life together had been. But she was ready for a change now. She had known it for a long time. “I just think I've done everything I want to do, love. Professionally anyway.”

'That's terrible.” He looked upset. “How can you say something like that at your age?”

She laughed, and she was still so damn beautiful it amazed him sometimes. “I happen to be fifty-two years old, I've made fifty-six films, had five children, one grandchild,” she refused to count the other one, he was gone to them all and had been for more than five years, “have a husband I adore, have made lots of friends. In brief, that's it folks. I think I want to go and play now. All our kids are all right, they seem happy, we've done our best. This is when they write The End' across the screen, dear.” She smiled at him and for the first time in their life together he thought she was serious about it.

“What would you do if you retired?”

“I don't know … spend a year in the South of France maybe. Go play somewhere. We don't have anything in the works.” She hadn't liked anything she'd seen lately, and maybe this was what she had been waiting for, Val's Academy Award so she could leave. There was something sweet about ending with that film, the film that had begun Val's career in a big way, like a legacy she could leave her child, a special gift.

“You could write my memoirs,” Ward teased.

“You do that. I don't even want to write my own.”